The Fall of Patrick Jane
by Sorah
Summary: Fanfic written in noir style, with a set of quotes from Max Payne. In this fanfiction, Patrick and Lisbon will be taken to their most terrible nightmares. And so on, they will find out love as their only hope of keeping sanity.
1. Christmas gift

**This****fanfic****is****noir style****, ****first-person,****POV****of****Jane****and****contains****an****infinite****set****of****sentences**** from a game****(****noir) ****named****Max****Payne****(before****somebody****accuses****me****of****plagiarism****)******

**It will be published****in****parts.****  
****I just wrote****the****first****part****and****it****has****12****chapters****.****  
****The chapters****are****short,****so****the****posting frequency****depends solely on****the****reviews.**

**Chap. 1 – Christmas gift**

Like all the bad things in my life, it started with the death of a woman. I couldn't save her.

There are no happy endings.  
People like to spend their lives in a search of something greater, when there is "something greater".  
The only destination for which we cannot escape is death. This is invariably painful, inevitable and cold. If it isn't for the one who dies, it is for those who are left in this world. So if you want to be happy, the time is now.  
I realized this too late.

To make any kind of sense of it, I need to go back to the night a few weeks ago, when the sky seemed to fall upon, Sacramento, CBI.  
I knew that Hightower was lying. Her eyes were screaming while trying to escape from my sight. She had sent Lisbon and the rest of the team to a mission without communicating me. Unwittingly, she had given me the front seat to the horrors of that morning.  
I would have gone home for a few seconds. If she had taken another few seconds to send them to almost certain death, I'd be home. I would turn my phone off. I would know what happened only in the next day.  
But I stayed.  
I was trying to read her, so I could find out to what kind of mission Lisbon had been sent.  
"Shots and bad guys. Nothing that could interest you. "  
She lied.  
She lied as a corrupt politician.

I was just waiting. I was not too worried about the health of the four, because I trusted that there was no challenge too great for them, especially being led by Lisbon. The point is that I needed to know details of that mission.

Hightower crossed the office around three in the morning with a cup of coffee in hand.  
"Working late tonight?", I asked.  
She almost ignored. Then I noticed a slight smile.  
"Want to see your reaction when Lisbon arrives with your Christmas gift"  
My heart almost stopped, even before my brain could think why. In that moment, the elevator opened in the CBI.

In slow motion, I saw Lisbon and Rigsby passing holding a handcuffed man, completely ignoring my presence in place. They tried avoid looking into my eyes and reveal any evidence.  
But it was useless. Because the man in handcuffs looked at.  
It was like stepping into your mind. Without fear, without reserve, I saw what anyone would call a demon. There was a lusty pleasure in those pupils, reminiscent of an ugly scene recently observed. In the hands, the constant shaking and the blood that was surely violently taken. The man walked into the interrogation room as if he was walking to a kitchen.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was Red John.

The sky was falling apart.  
And the storm was just in the beginning. 


	2. The day I didn't kill Red John

**Thank you guys for the reviews. I'm sorry about the words all connected from the last chap, don't know what happened. And I don't know if it will happen again, so if the words are connected again, I'm sorry for that too.**

**Also, I'm sorry about my poor English, which is not my language. I'll try to improve it as I keep posting.**

**Thank you for signing the story alert, a lot of people did it.**

**I'll post as long as you review, so I can know if there's somebody reading it.**

**Chap. 2 – The day I didn't kill Red John**

Throw the rules out the window, odds are you'll go that way too.

This was the principle that Lisbon followed, and that was why I was prevented from going to the interrogation room. Hightower found a way to get two big policemen to watch me.

They did not have that right, and they would pay for it.

In fact, everyone in the CBI at three in the morning would pay for some sin in their past.

"It's okay, guys, I'm not interested in working at this hour."

I got rid of two guard that protected me from Red John. I didn't go to the interrogation room. Sometimes the shortest path to your destination may seem almost three times bigger.

I was a bullet away from the head of the murderer of my wife and daughter.

I climbed into the attic of the CBI. I sat at a table in front of the window. I took my diary from a drawer. I reviewed the first page. There were whispers of madness and insanity that Sophie Miller made me write when I not even could imagine a way to kill him.

I turned several pages, until I reached a blank one.

_"Today, December 20, I killed Red John." _

I left the pen on the table and kept the diary again.

Promises prevent you from thinking before pulling the trigger.

Promises are like weapons autoloadable. When you have the chance to think what to do, whether to stop or continue shooting, the gun gained new ammunition, and the choice is no longer binary.

The bottom drawer kept the box which once I was given as a gift.

My fingerprints were already soaked by the cold barrel of that gun. The CBI's security

cameras would be cruel witnesse. But I was not trying to run away from anyone.

I went downstairs to walk back to the interrogation room. Van Pelt looked at me for short seconds. It was comical the attempts of the agents to look away from me, so they could not confirm what I knew long ago.

The officers in charge of not letting me get closer from Red John followed me to the exit. I warned that I was going to sleep and I went down the elevator.

I stood beside the door where Red John would appear after confessing his crimes. And he would confess. Undoubtedly, without hiding anything. Flaunting each cry of pain he plucked.

I waited like a gargoyle, for about an hour and a half. My feet were soaked by the rain that splashed by the force that hit the ground. Then I heard with difficulty, the steps and the voice of Lisbon, Red John certainly being led to my Glock.

Once they left, I pulled the trigger.

Lisbon's tears still messing with my head.


	3. The one who pulls the trigger

**Let me say that this fanfiction will be posted in two parts. The second part is a bit different from this one, and is called "Stay down". Also, I would like to say that the first part has 12 chapters.**

**By the way, it was written in Portuguese, my mother language, and, as you can see for my grammatical mistakes, is not very easy to me to translate it. So, I will only translate it if I know that there are people reading it. So review it, people, it's really important.**

**Chap. 3 – The one who pulls the trigger.**

As surely as the bullet rips through the victim's flesh, organ and bone, it shatters the image of the man who pulls the trigger.

For example, at that moment, I became someone that Lisbon used to trust, but now is nothing more than crazy.

Shooting an agent of the CBI was one of the worst things I could have ever done, judging by law, by the circumstances. Shooting Lisbon was the worst thing I could have done in any circumstance.

However, trying to stop me from killing the killer of my wife and daughter was the worst thing that Lisbon did in her life.

The price was to high.

It cost some AB blood bags and a scar on her shoulder. It cost my hatred, above anything else.

The weapon has gained weight from the panic that grew on me by seeing the blood. The Glock became three tonnes havier and fell from my hands. I do not remember that moment. In fact, in my mind, this was all just a blur. Red John grabbing the gun from the floor with satisfaction in his eyes, however, never left my memory.  
Why Lisbon? Why jump in front of this demon? Why would she think she can stop me from taking the weight out of my soul? She was stupid. She had only postponed it. 

And then the police chased him.

I heard three shots. Three men down.

The confusion began.

There were at least five police cars parked outside, with two agents in each one.

Fleeing down the street would be madness.

But Red John has never intended to runaway.

While Lisbon was dying on the floor, he grabbed the keys of his handcuffs. Then he ran back into the CBI, bumping into anyone who met him by surprise. Cho passed by me running and was behind. I would go too, but Van Pelt held me.

"Do not spoil things more than you already did." It sounded like a reprimand.

She used the cellphone to ask for an ambulance urgently. Police officers were hurt.

Or dead, who knows.

"Officer down!" The scream had come from Cho, from the second floor.

You could see short flashes bursting through the window. They came accompanied by the characteristic sound of the guns of at least five policemen.

If I believed in God, I would have prayed.

But I do not even believe in myself.

A woman and a dead child: This is what I see when I look back. These moments, blinding as snow, they kill you, change you. You die and live again, remade.

But not anymore.

I'm tired of waking up every day with two corpses to carry.

And in an attempt to seek redemption, almost got another body in my back.

Lisbon's life was fading fast. And when the ambulance arrived, the shooting still happening, just went up to the third floor.

That's when I heard. "He is down! He is down!"

He is down.

But the storm stills falling.


	4. Jail

**Sorry, guys, for some reason I posted the wrong chapter. It was not only in Portuguese, but also it wasn't the real chapter 4. It was actually the chapter 4 from the second part of this fanfiction, so, please, ignore it. For those who have translated it, I guess I gave you a big spoiler. I'm so sorry, people.**

**Thanks for the reviews. As long as they keep coming, I keep translating. And posting the right chapter.**

**Chap. 4 - Jail**

Six people went to hospital that morning.  
Five agents, Lisbon included. And Red John.  
A police officer handcuffed me while the paramedics put them on the barrow. Today, looking back, I see that my eyes were locked in the bloody smile of Red John. And if I were a ghost with a gun in that moment, would put a bullet in the confines of my brain, trying to expose the guilt of not even checking if Lisbon was alive or not before entering the ambulance.  
I spent the night in a cell. It wasn't the first time. But now it was serious. I had shot someone. I had shot a police officer. Doesn't matter if the intention was shooting a serial killer. If Lisbon died, or even Red John, I would go to lethal injection. The difference is that if was Red John who would die, there was no problem.

I spent the next five days with no visits or even being given any signs of news, so I knew that Lisbon was still in the hospital. She was the only one who could take me out. And get out of jail was the only reason I would think about her. Frequently, I would try to remember where Red John had been shot. I wanted to think about the chances of him dying. And every time I thought, I remembered the bullet hole in a different place. All of them were not vital parts.

He was alive. I could feel her breath on my neck. His sickly whisper. A red-eyed monster hungry for another victim.  
Red John was there, in front of me. One bullet away. I was a bullet away from peace. My revenge would be fulfilled at that time. And then all the pain would end. I would get the same look of serenity of the man who gave me the gun that I used in the attack. He, who, just like me, were hunting the killer of his wife. He, who just like me, would go to the last consequences. But he did. The damn sociopath who took his wife from her arms won nine shots in the face. With his death, I had witnessed the complete peace in his eyes, even though he was accused of the crime, even though he could go to jail, even though he could get the death penalty, there was peace and tranquility in his eyes.  
It was after this peace that I was.

That night I dreamed about my wife.  
In the dream, it was she who jumped in front of Red and John and stopped me from killing him.

Why, Lisbon?  
He was so close. So close! If I had ... ... if Lisbon hadn't…  
Sometimes you find yourself thinking about the past and the things we did today.  
The truth? There are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask "Why me?" and "What if?". When you look back and see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or forked lightning. If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions. So it was that simple.  
Maybe if Lisbon hadn't protected Red John, it wouldn't be her.  
But thinking about cause and effect laws wouldn't make my anger get any smaller, cause I was in jail, while Red John was alive. And my anger was all about Lisbon.

On the sixth day, Rigsby appeared.  
It was ridiculously the annoying "disappointed father" expression on his face.  
"You'll be free." He said. "They managed to convince the judge that you had reason to attack Red John."  
I looked at him. It was the first time that someone in the team admitted that the man was Red John. Rigsby seemed to mean it was not for me to know that, but he could do nothing about it.  
"But I did not attack Red John. I attacked Lisbon ".  
"Yeah, we know." His voice sounded like a harsh reprimand. "She is alive, thanks for asking."  
"I know."  
It was obvious by his gaze. Not carrying any sadness. Just anger. What led me to believe that she hadn't left the hospital. I guessed that she was felling a lot of paint right now. If she were fine, Rigsby would not be so nervous, not holding himself back to do not open the cell to knock me down.

I deserved to be beaten, by the way.

"Lisbon herself is going to will talk to the judge to get you out. She understands your position. "  
I could translate the last sentence as "She understands, I do not." But that's okay.  
"What about Red John?"  
Rigsby stared at me as if to punish me for all my sins in life. I bet he was wondering how the hell I had chutzpah to ask such a thing in such a moment.  
"He left the hospital and will be judged. He will wait for the judgment in a cell. "  
He would take the death sentence.  
I do not know if I'd be happy enough with that.  
I would have to wait to know.

What should cross my head when the murderer of the people I loved most goes to death row?  
First, I would never have the chance to kill him with my own hands.  
Second, that the only person responsible for that was Lisbon.  
Third, but not least, I would have to content myself with lethal injection and painless.  
And finally, I did not believe it would please myself. Also, I wouldn't accept it to easily.  
Things were moving toward a point of no return.  
I could ignore all these thoughts, close my eyes and smile again, lie to myself that it was over.

I was alive. Red John was alive.  
Angela and Charlotte were dead.  
It wasn't over.

It rained again that day.  
I think the sky was as dark as my heart.  
But I did not understand yet. At that time I still did not see things in black and white. Today, however, the world is monochromatic.  
The reason for this would happen soon.

Lisbon had prevented me from killing Red John. It was the worst thing she could have done but was not what made me so angry.  
Because, in one way or another, I would expect that from her.  
What ended up making me take another step up to the point of no return was something I never expected from Lisbon.


	5. Irony

**Hey guys.**

**Now I think there are more people signed to the story alerts and favorites than reviews. Don't know if Im happy or sad about it. Ahhahaha**

**Anyway, if you are enjoying, please review! : )**

**Chap. 5 - Irony**

When I got out of the jail and showed up at work, we had an interesting conversation about apologies and painkillers.  
She was fine, by the way. Slightly disappointed. But we had already talked about this before. She knows I won't let it go. She knew it so well that tried really hard to avoid me to know about that men being Red John. She would have succeeded. The mistake was committed by Hightower.

Things were heading for back to routine. Except that I was awaiting the trial of Red John. And of course they didn't let me see him in his cell. Actually, I would be arrested if I could get a hundred yards near him.

I think I should say now what my feelings about Lisbon were.  
There was something asleep inside of me.  
Course I knew why. Lisbon is a wonderful woman. Dedicated, hardworking and proud. A good friend. Someone I could always count on.

And for some reason, I imagined that if I did not have a huge motive to keep the feeling numb, one time I'd fall for her.  
Incidentally, I also calculated that if I had killed Red John, this huge reason would be undone as dust into the wind. So, stopping me, she had, before anything, prevented me from loving her.

The judge appeared in the CBI one day. Lisbon asked to speak with him personally, right after Hightower.

She had privileges because she was the one who arrested Red John. Her name was already in the papers, next to mine.

"Patrick Jane tries to kill his wife's killer and ends up hitting on heroin."  
Irony is just the nickname.

In the day the judge came, I was lying on my couch, as always. I saw him leaving Hightower's room and getting into Lisbon's one. The were open. I could read the lips of both clearly.

And what they talked, what Lisbon said, I would keep me awaken for many nights. I could not believe what she was saying.

"I know I should not interfere in your decision, Judge Petterson, but I would like to ask you not to give Red John the death sentence. You know it would not be the best option. I understand if you refuse, of course. But sometimes the law does not do the required justice. "

Lisbon was preventing Red John from being killed. By me and by the state.

I could not forgive such a thing.

This was another step toward in the direction of the point of no return.

**I had a little difficulty to translate some parts of this one. I'm sure there are some mistakes. Sorry about'em.**


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